


falling down a rabbit hole

by carissima



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Angst, Changelings, Contracts, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Halloween, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 00:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16418729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: Perhaps some part of him should have expected this, he thinks as he stares at the ugly creature before him. The fae part of him probably, his internal voice suggests somewhat unhelpfully.“I’m sorry,” Connor says instinctively, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. The creature before him blinks and then smiles widely, displaying sharp, pointy teeth that are mildly terrifying. “What did you say?”





	falling down a rabbit hole

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly set out to write a spooky halloween story and INSTEAD this is what happened. this is not spooky. at all. but there are supernatural elements and i'm posting it around halloween? that's gotta count for something. thank you to L for talking this through with me and helping me figure stuff out, and a huuuuge thank you to B for the beta as always!

Perhaps some part of him should have expected this, he thinks as he stares at the ugly creature before him. The fae part of him probably, his internal voice suggests somewhat unhelpfully.

“I’m sorry,” Connor says instinctively, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. The creature before him blinks and then smiles widely, displaying sharp, pointy teeth that are mildly terrifying. “What did you say?”

“I come from the land of the fae to reclaim Connor McDavid,” the creature repeats, and it doesn’t make any more sense the second time he hears it. “You have one year, then you will be returned to the land where you were born.”

Connor’s brow wrinkles, glancing out of the window to check that he is still in fact in Vegas. He hasn’t even had a legal drink in the US yet. He’d just been returning to his room to get ready before the team takes him out for what promises to be a horrifying and yet totally unavoidable blowout for his 21st birthday, when he’d walked in to find this creature, a fairy, sitting on his bed and chewing on a few packets of jujubes.

Maybe his gatorade was spiked.

“I was born in Richmond Hill?” he says, confused.

The fairy laughs and Connor sees all her teeth again and it’s possible they’ve multiplied in number in the last few minutes because she looks like a shark right now. “You were born a fae,” she tells him in her raspy voice. “You were given to Kelly and Brian McDavid in exchange for 22 human years. I’m here to claim you, ready for your return to your true self.”

“My true self,” Connor repeats under his breath, more baffled than ever. “Is this like, some elaborate prank? Did Stromer set this up? Or Nursey?”

The fairy scoffs from her perch on his bed. She’s pretty damn small and now that he’s looking, her fingernails are grotesque, long and pointy and sharp, and not in a sexy way. She’s rocking more of a slit-his-throat kind of look. She is, however, covered in fairy dust and it seems to be multiplying around her, drifting to the carpeted floor and he has no idea how he’s going to clean that up before check-out.

“You were born fae, and to the fae you must return,” she tells him. She looks pretty intense about the whole thing so Connor is trying to look like he’s taking this as seriously as she is, even though it’s all clearly a wind-up.

“Look,” he says placatingly. “I’m really sorry but my teammates are organizing a whole thing for me for my birthday. If I don’t get ready and downstairs in the next 30 minutes, they’re going to come look for me.” What he doesn’t say is that he absolutely cannot let his teammates see this creature sitting on his bed in a cloud of fairy dust, eating his entire jujube stash.

Also, he’d really like her to stop eating his damn candy.

“Perhaps you’d like to speak to your human parents,” she says, sounding a little bored now. He wrinkles his nose, because it’s past midnight in Toronto and he’s not waking them up to discuss his weird hallucinations or whatever this is.

“Uh, no,” he says and his voice kind of goes up a little at the end so it sounds more like a question than he’d like.

Except his cell appears in his hand and his parents home number is ringing and Connor definitely didn’t move, so he’s finally starting to freak out just a little bit. It rings three times and Connor just looks at it, unable to move his thumb to stop the call.

“Am I paralyzed?” he asks just as his mom answers, sounding half asleep.

“Connor?” she suddenly sounds very awake, the way that parents always do when their kids call past midnight. Because the only reason to call parents after midnight is for an emergency, but he’s not sure this counts or if it does, what the hell his mom can do about it from Toronto. “Everything okay? Happy birthday darling!”

Connor lets out a breath and relaxes back into his chair, unable to stop himself from feeling a little warm at the sound of her voice. “Thanks, mom. I’m uh, I’m just at the hotel and there’s um. I don’t really know how to say this but, uh, there’s a fairy here?” He winces at himself and waits, his stomach churning.

There’s silence down the phone, which he was expecting. Then there’s a scuffle of movement and his mom’s frantic voice, telling his dad to wake up.

“Whassit?” his dad asks gruffy. Connor winces again, because his dad hates being woken up at normal times, let alone the middle of the night.

“It’s Connor,” his mom hisses, louder now. “It’s happened! He’s 21, Brian. The fae have come to claim him like they said they would!”

Connor can literally feel his eyes bugging out of his head. “What?” he asks faintly. “Mom? What?”

“Oh Connor honey,” his mom says, and he’s on speaker now. “We thought we’d have more time.”

“More time for what?” his voice is getting a little squeaky now and the fairy is staring at him in mild interest. “Mom? What’s happening?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation on the phone,” his mom says, and now she sounds a little distressed. He can hear his dad talking quietly to her in the background, but he can’t pick up any of the words.

“Mom, there’s a fairy sitting on my hotel bed, telling me that you aren’t my parents and that I need to go back to where I came from,” Connor says flatly.

“Well, firstly you tell that fairy that we are your parents,” his mom says, switching suddenly into protective mode. “You tell her right now.”

“She can hear you,” Connor says, softening his tone. “Mom, what happened?”

So eventually, she tells him the whole story. About how a fairy had appeared to them one night, carrying a baby who was sleeping so peacefully that his mom had checked to make sure he was breathing all night long. The fairy had offered them the child - Connor - in exchange for 22 human years, at which time he would be returned to the fae.

“Why?” Connor asks. His head is spinning.

“They uh, said you you were showing signs of uh, not being a good fairy?” his dad says, which is by far the most bizarre sentence his dad has ever spoken and Connor can feel a hysterical laugh bubble up inside of him that he desperately tries to repress.

“I was a bad fairy,” he manages to say flatly. He feels a hysterical bubble of laughter well up inside of him and it comes out as a strangled kind of noise. “But I was a baby.”

“You can always spot a bad fairy from birth,” the creature interjects wisely.

Connor glares at her.

“Right, so if I’m such a bad fairy, why do they want me back?” Connor asks as reasonably as he can.

“A fairy cannot stay human,” the creature tells him, frowning like the very thought is unbearable. “You must return to where you once came. Fae do not belong here.”

“That’s not an answer,” Connor tells her, standing up and beginning to pace. He shoots off a quick text to the group chat, asking for more time. “I’m not a goddamn fairy, I’m a human. I play hockey. Don’t you think someone’s going to ask questions if the captain of the Oilers just suddenly goes missing?”

“Perhaps at first, but soon after you leave, the world will forget you were ever here,” the fairy tells him.

“What?!” his parents both shout down the phone. “That’s not part of the deal!”

The fairy shrugs, like she doesn’t care. And Connor realizes why, when she flicks her wand and a gold, sparkly thing appears between them, out of thin air, and floating too. “Here’s the contract your parents signed. It clearly states all the terms and conditions, including memory fade.”

Connor grabs the piece of paper, wincing when he gets fairy dust all over his hands. The writing is tiny, but a quick skim read reveals that she’s right, and also that those two signatures at the bottom of the paper are indeed his parents’. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, and feels the last of his hope slip away.

“Mom. Dad,” Connor says with a sigh. “Can I call you tomorrow? This is fucking with my head.”

“Sure honey,” his mom says, not sounding sure at all, and a lot like she wants to fight the fae single-handedly. “I’m so sorry we didn’t warn you, Connor. I thought we’d have more time.”

“We hoped they’d just forget,” he hears his dad mutter.

“Well, they didn’t and there’s no more time, apparently,” Connor says, his voice carrying more bite than he means it to, but he’s still in shock.

“You have time,” the fairy reminds him. “One human year.”

“We’ll fix this, honey,” his mom calls. “I promise we’ll fix this!”

Connor doesn’t see how, but he says goodbye to his parents and throws his phone onto a table and drops his head into his hands. Tonight is a fucking nightmare.

“You will not miss this place when you return home,” the fairy tells him, and he suspects she’s trying to be nice. “The fae are nature’s children; that’s why you feel an affinity with the ice. You’re fast here. You stand out. Back home, you will have real competition. You can spend every day on ice at home, if you so choose.”

“I choose to stay here and skate every day,” Connor says in frustration. “I don’t want to go. I want to be here with my family and my friends, with hockey. I want to be human.”

“You will never be human, changeling,” the fairy tells him solemnly. “You have one year unless a human claims you for their own.”

“Right,” Connor says, before he starts and narrows his eyes at her. “What? What do you mean, claims me?”

“For their own,” the fairy says with a shug. “If a human comes forward, willing to claim you forever, then you can stay with the humans.”

“But like, what does claiming mean?” Connor asks. “Can anyone claim me?”

“Yes,” the fairy says easily and Connor’s about to sigh in relief when she continues; “if they are truly in love with you.”

Connor blinks. “Run that past me again?”

“Human’s call them fairytales for a reason,” the fae says, grinning widely. “True love’s kiss and all that nonsense. Are you in love, Connor McDavid?”

Connor bites down on his bottom lip. “Does it matter? They have to love me back, right? For true love or whatever?” Fairytales have never been his thing but he’s seen a few old Disney movies. He knows the gist.

“Of course, otherwise it cannot be true love,” the fae tells him. “True love is the greatest power on earth, not even the fae can fight it.”

“Right,” Connor says. It’s not even the weirdest thing he’s been told tonight; it’s way down the list past ‘you’re fae’ and ‘you’ve got one year to live’ or whatever. “Well, I really have to get ready or my teammates are going to come looking for me.”

“You will see me again on All Hallows Eve, Connor McDavid. Say your goodbyes before then.” The fairy hops off the bed and he can clearly see just how small she is. She barely comes up to his knee. He wonders how that’ll work, whether he’ll shrink when she comes for him.

“Wait, All Hallows Eve? Isn’t that Halloween?” Connor asks. “That’s not a year. It’s nine months.”

“Oh yes,” the fairy nods, baring her teeth at him again and Connor takes a whole step back. And then another one, just for good measure. He’d quite like to keep his teeth. He wonders if that’s negotiable. “I forget time moves differently here. All Hallow’s Eve it must be though, for the distance between our two worlds is at its weakest, and you will be able to make the journey. Farewell, Connor McDavid.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving him with a pile of fairy dust on his bed, collecting on the carpet below and an equal sized heap of now-empty jujube packets.

Connor takes the opportunity, now that he’s alone, to grab a pillow, shove it over his face and scream as loudly as he can.

He’s interrupted by a knock at the door, and at this point, he’d barely be surprised to find the abominable snowman there, or maybe a unicorn.

Thankfully, it’s only Leon, who goes from looking concerned to confused as soon as Connor opens the door.

“Uh,” he says, frowning. “Have you even showered?”

Connor’s good at compartmentalising. He spent years in therapy sorting out his shit, and discovering that he’s fae, a fucking changeling like something out of a horror movie, is just one more thing to very carefully not think about. So he shoves the whole last half hour aside and lets Leon into his room. “I had some stuff to sort out,” he says, and luckily Leon knows him well enough not to press.

Leon does, however, raise his eyebrows at the glittery mess on his bed. “Alright,” he says calmly. “Go shower. I’ll uh, clean up?”

Connor shoots him a thankful smile, grabs his stuff and disappears as quickly as he can into the bathroom. He doesn’t even pause to look at himself in the mirror; he’ll have time for that later, when he can study the face he’s worn his whole life and wonder if there’s anything there that should have been a clue.

He steps under the hot spray of water and washes the whole conversation away, closes his eyes and takes a moment to wish that he could be anyone else. That he could be the person he always thought he was, and not some fae from a different fucking world that he’s being forced to go back to.

He’s got months to figure it out. The season is only halfway over and the team might be tanking but he has personal goals. If this is his last year on the ice - his chest physically hurts to just think about it - then he’s going to do something special or kill himself trying.

But right now, he doesn’t want to think about any of that. He wants to get dressed, listen to Leon bitch about how Connor should fix his hair, get drunk with his teammates, with his friends, and forget about any of this crazy shit.

So he switches off the shower, wraps a towel around his hips and runs a hand through his hair, water dripping all over his shoulders and leans through the door until he can see Leon, muttering to himself as he tries to clean up fairy dust. “Hey, you think I should grow out my hair?”

Leon turns his head around so quickly that Connor can’t help but grin. Leon’s hands are covered in glitter but he hasn’t asked about it and Connor suspects that he won’t. “Yes,” Leon says quickly, and Connor blinks because he momentarily forgot the question. Then he can feel his grin widen.

“Cool,” is all he says, then he closes the door and gets dressed quickly, running a hand over his chin and up over his cheek. Maybe he’ll grow out some facial hair too. If he’s only got a few months left, he might as well do what the fuck he wants, or otherwise what’s the point?

So he packs away his razor, smooths his hands down his shirt and gives himself a slight nod in the mirror.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, walking out of the bathroom. Leon looks up from his phone and stands up, all easy movements and casual grace. Connor envies that. Leon’s bigger than he is and yet he carries it well, better than Connor could ever hope to. He never knows what to do with his hands, never knows how to smile easily without showing too much teeth, never knows how to be comfortable in his own skin.

“Ready when you are,” Leon says in his quiet voice, reaching out to put his hand on Connor’s back and steering him towards the door. “Got everything you need?”

Connor takes a long breath and tries to relax. “Yeah.”

“Then let's go celebrate,” Leon says, his hand sliding up Connor’s torso to sling around his shoulders once they’re out in the hallway and heading for the elevator. “I’m buying your first legal drink in America.”

“You know I’ve been legal in Canada for years, right?” Connor asks dryly.

Leon grins wickedly and leans in close enough to murmur into his ear. “But we’re in Vegas, baby. It’s a rite of passage.”

Connor rolls his eyes but he stays tucked into Leon’s side as the elevator slides down through the floors, pinging loudly to announce their arrival on the ground floor.

“Rite of passage,” Connor echoes just before the doors open to reveal every single member of the Oilers roster, half of them already with a beer in hand, and all of them cheering embarrassingly loudly when they step out.

He’s going to enjoy every single minute he has left, Connor promises himself and takes the bottle Lars presses into his hand. He’s earned that much, at least.

*

Every time Connor blinks, a shot is being pressed into his hand and he downs them all. He laughs and dances so badly that usually he’d be embarrassed but tonight he’s having fun. He dances with Nursey and Klef and Patty, and every time they laugh at him, instead of getting self-conscious, Connor laughs too. Laughing is so much more fun than crying, Connor thinks hazily, cuddling into Patty when he drags Connor back from the dancefloor to where the rest of the team are standing around, none of them as drunk as Connor is.

It’s a weird feeling but it’s also kind of numbing, which Connor is definitely in favor of tonight. If his laughter has the edge of hysteria to it, then no one is saying anything. Looch checks in with him a few times, but Connor ends up giggling into his shoulder each time and Looch never tells the guys to stop feeding him drinks.

“Alright,” Nursey says finally when Connor stumbles into him. Connor frowns sadly at the floor for betraying him. “Time to get you to bed, Captain.”

Connor pats his arm. “Okay buddy,” he says happily and lets Nursey slide an arm around him for balance. “You gonna take me to bed?” Then he bursts into giggles.

“Oh my god,” Nursey murmurs next to him before he lifts his head. “Hey, Drai, help me out here?”

Another solid body presses against his other side and Connor beams up at his favorite liney. “Nursey wants to take me to bed,” he says solemnly then he starts laughing again.

Leon exchanges a look with Nursey over Connor’s head and then he’s being ushered towards the exit and sweet, fresh, cool air.

“Mmmm,” Connor hums and breathes in deeply, his head spinning. “Hey, Leon? Can you tell Nursey that he’s not my type but thanks anyway?”

He’s squinting at Leon so he doesn’t miss the way Leon’s smile quirks at him. There’s muffled laughter behind him but Connor’s kind of fixated on Leon’s mouth right now and he smiles back, probably too goofily but Leon’s smile never wavers.

“He’s not?” Leon leans in towards him and murmurs, like they’re sharing a secret. Connor shakes his head dumbly. “I’m sure he’ll be devastated to hear it.”

 Connor frowns. “I don’t want him to be sad,” he says seriously. “Can you let him down gently?”

“Sure, Connor,” Leon tells him, nodding solemnly. “Nursey’s a big boy. He’ll understand.”

The next thing Connor knows, he’s in his hotel room and Leon is trying to get him to lay down on his bed.

“I’m still dressed,” Connor protests, his hands reaching for his belt buckle and trying to loosen it.

“Okay buddy,” Leon soothes him. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” Connor says and lays back down, closing his eyes. Leon’s hands feel nice on him, like they’re efficiently disrobing him and Connor likes that a lot. His jeans disappear and Leon helps him out of his shirt and he doesn’t even laugh all that much at Connor’s fumbling attempts to help.

He’s still got his boxers on though, so Connor reaches for his waistband but Leon’s hands cover his, stopping his movements.

Connor sighs and turns his hands over, linking them with Leon’s. He’s still got his eyes closed and he kind of wants to just sleep forever, except that he’s only got a short amount of time left and he probably shouldn’t miss any of it.

“I don’t want to leave,” he says sleepily.

“What, Vegas?” Leon asks, sounding amused.

“You,” Connor corrects him. He’ll be happy to leave Vegas and go home. Home sounds amazing. “The team. Don’t want to go.”

“Who said anything about you leaving?” Leon sounds confused.

“Contract,” Connor mumbles, half asleep. Everything feels really warm and soft and he rolls onto his side, one hand still holding onto Leon’s. “Contract says I gotta leave.”

“Connor,” Leon says, and he sounds much closer, like he’s breathing in the same air as Connor. “You signed a contract to stay. No one’s going to let you leave. You’re in Edmonton with us for eight years. With me. We both signed, remember?”

Connor doesn’t want to remember anything. He wants to go to sleep and wake up in the morning to find out this has all been a terrible, awful dream.

*

He wakes up with a hangover and fairy dust sprinkled over all his belongings.

So probably not a dream, then.

*

Connor waits until their next off day before he lets himself have a complete meltdown. He spends most of the day under his duvet, only emerging every few hours. “What the fuck,” he whispers, then buries himself back under the duvet for a few more hours of freaking the hell out. It’s not exactly productive in helping with the whole fairy situation, but he weirdly feels better by the time he finally gets out of bed and pads into his kitchen, still wearing the old, soft track pants and an even older, even softer Otters t-shirt he wore to bed last night. He demolishes a bowl of Cap’n Crunch and doesn’t even feel guilty about pouring himself another. It’s not like he’s got to look after his body long-term or whatever.

He sits at his kitchen table, turns on the tv and flicks it onto the Calgary-Habs game. Calgary are up by four and it’s only halfway through the second.

“Everything sucks,” he says to his empty house. He’s only vaguely annoyed to get no answer back.

*

The thing about knowing that his time left is limited is that Connor gets to prioritize people in a way that he hasn’t before. During the season, he’s focused, which mostly means forgetting about anyone who isn’t right in front of him, like teammates or whoever they’re playing that week. So Dylan and Brinksy keep asking him what’s wrong when he sends them a snap or sets up a bi-weekly Skype date. He doesn’t think his parents have told Cam what’s happening, but he calls him after almost every game and by March, Cam’s stopped worrying about him and has decided to just go with it.

His parents arrive on his doorstep in early February when it’s cold enough that Connor spends as much time indoors as he can to avoid losing any limbs to frostbite. His mom alternates between hugging him, crying, and yelling at either him or his dad, and occasionally the not-present fae. His dad mostly mutters stoically to himself that they’ll figure out a way to fix this whole mess, while Connor makes endless cups of tea that neither of his parents want, but it makes Connor feel a little less anxious so every time his mom’s mood shifts, he stands up and heads for the kitchen.

It’s a relief when they go home and leave him in his empty house, a sink full of unwashed cups and a text on his phone from Nursey suggesting a night out that Connor replies to a little more enthusiastically than usual.

*

The Oilers suck this year, which is pretty fucking annoying when Connor knows this is his last year in the league. He plays out of his skin, racking up points faster than anyone else in the league but it’s not enough.

Now and again, when he has a few hours to himself or he’s feeling pretty fucking shit about the season, he’ll think about being claimed by someone. Sometimes, when he’s at a bar with the guys, he’ll look around at the unknown faces surrounding him and wonder if maybe one of them would want to claim him.

Then he remembers that no one’s been interested in him for the past 21 years, so it’s unlikely that he’ll find his true love in the next six months.

Sometimes, he thinks hockey is his true love and it’s impossible for hockey to claim him, so he’s kind of screwed.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Leon says, appearing next to him and wrapping an easy arm around Connor’s waist.

“I’m always quiet,” Connor points out, but he relaxes into Leon anyway. “Just thinking, I guess.”

Leon hums thoughtfully. “Not the best place for deep thoughts,” he notes, and he’s probably right. They’re in a bar in California, the fourth night of a week-long road trip to finish the season and the music is loud and the bar is crammed full of bodies, a lot of them eagerly pressing against the team. Some of them look like they’d like to take Connor home for the night, but he’s not really into that. He never has been, and nothing’s really changed for him there. He desperately wants hockey more than almost anything and if he only gets a few more months of it, then he won’t do anything to jeopardize that. There’s been no wild nights out with too much alcohol since Vegas. He hasn’t taken anyone home with him. He’s still himself, and going home with a stranger for sex isn’t what Connor’s about. “Season’s all but over, anyway.”

“Who said I was thinking about hockey?” Connor asks. One of the girls trying to get his attention catches his eye and she does something obscene with her mouth and a straw from her drink, so Connor turns into Leon a little and tries not to flush.

Leon laughs at him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of Connor’s embarrassment or at the idea that Connor could think about anything non-hockey related. “You could, you know,” Leon says, quietly enough that Connor has to lean in to hear him. He nods his head towards the group of girls behind Connor. “Maybe let off some steam. No one will mind if you do something for yourself for once.”

Connor doesn’t even look over his shoulder. “Not tonight,” is all he says. “Boys night.”

Leon doesn’t look convinced. “Alright,” he says anyway, and steers Connor over to the bar to order another round, carefully keeping himself between Connor and anyone looking to push their way into Connor’s space.

“If you want to talk though,” Leon murmurs to him later as they head back to their hotel. “You know I’ll listen, yeah?”

Connor lets himself imagine that for a moment. Maybe sitting Leon down in one of their hotel rooms and explaining that a fairy appeared to him on his 21st birthday to announce he was a goddamn changeling with an expiration date on his time on Earth.

He doesn’t think Leon would take it all that well. He’s not doing so great with it himself.

“Sure,” he says, and says goodbye to Leon as they disappear into their respective rooms.

He doesn’t know why it suddenly hits him hard enough that he sinks down onto the carpet, his back resting against the door and puts his head in his hands. He’s known they weren’t going to make the playoffs pretty much even before his 21st birthday, but somehow it seems so much worse right then and there. Like it’s really hitting home for him. He’s been running on empty for at least a month now, and in a week, their season will be over and that’ll be it. The end of his career, for the most part. He can start next season, but he certainly won’t finish it. Even if the Oilers did make the playoffs next year and somehow won the damn thing, it won’t be Connor lifting the Cup. He won’t be on the ice with his team, shoving a stupid Oilers hat on his head and hugging his family in celebration. He’ll never get to do that. He’ll fade from memory, a footnote in hockey history, and no one will even remember his name, let alone what he looked like or what he meant to the team.

Connor’s stomach roils and he scrambles to his feet, makes it to the toilet in time to vomit. He stays there on his knees, flushes the toilet and rests his head on his hands against the seat.

He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay.

Connor draws in a shaky breath and stands up, flicking the shower on and stripping efficiently until he’s naked and stepping under the spray. He tips his face up into the water and lets it mask any moisture that might be leaking from his squeezed shut eyelids.

He wants to stay more than anything, but there’s no one to claim him, and in that moment, Connor doesn’t think he’s ever felt as lonely as he does right now.

*

He pulls it together for the rest of the road trip and wins the goddamn Art Ross for the second consecutive year. The team celebrates with a night out after the season ends, and it’s bittersweet for everyone as the season as a whole was pretty forgettable and ends with a whimper rather than a bang. They unite for Connor though, and he does his best to look like he’s enjoying what is, for all intents and purposes, his going away party, even if he’s the only one who knows that he’s leaving.

Saying goodbye to the guys after locker clean out is brutal, but at least he’ll see some of them at Worlds. He’s got a week or two before he flies out, so he heads back to his parents’ place for a few days before the stress of trying to stay calm around their increasing panic gets too much for him and he goes to stay at his own place.

Dylan stops by for a visit on his second night and Connor hugs him so tightly that Dylan has to physically wrench himself free.

“You okay?” Dylan asks breathlessly, giving Connor a puzzled look.

“Just missed you,” Connor says and takes a steadying breath. It’s good to see him, Connor thinks as he walks into the kitchen to grab a few beers from his fridge. He hands one to Dylan and they settle onto the sofa, TSN playing quietly in the background.

“So how’s things?” Dylan asks after a few beats.

Connor realizes belatedly that he was waiting for Connor to speak first and he flushes helplessly. “Last year sucked,” he says with a shrug.

“Sure, that second Art Ross is a real pain in your ass, huh?” Dylan says with a roll of his eyes.

“Making the playoffs would have been nice,” he says wistfully. There’s no more playoff hockey for him, but he can wish it for Dylan, at least.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how bad your team has to suck to have the league’s leading points scorer playing for them and still fuck it up,” Dylan says dryly. He nudges Connor’s knee with his own. “Next year, huh? I’ll be up for sure and you’ll make the playoffs, yeah?”

“You’re definitely going to be up,” Connor agrees, nudging him back. He’s missed this. Dylan was his one constant for so long. To some degree he’s got that now with the Oilers, with Leon and Nursey, but it’s never going to be the same as it was in juniors, when they were still kids just trying to get the NHL as fast as they could. He’s really going to miss this when he crosses over.

“For sure,” Dylan says, but there’s still an edge to his voice, the same one he gained about two years ago when he talked about coming up, when Mitch had left the Knights and Brinksy was going to the Hawks and it was just Dylan, trailing behind. “It’s kind of now or never, I guess.”

Connor’s mouth twists into a wry smile. “It’s not, but you’re going to make it. Prove how good you are to them. Make it impossible for them not to keep you.”

“That’s the plan,” Dylan says, but they both know it’s not as easy as that. “So, are you going to tell me what’s been up with you all year? I mean, aside from how bad your team was?”

Connor sighs and finishes his beer in one long gulp. “Let’s make a deal,” he offers. “Let’s not talk about last season, like, at all, and I’ll keep opening beers.”

Dylan looks at him like he’s going to protest, maybe push Connor until he blurts out the whole horrifying truth, but in the end, he lifts his beer in a mock toast. “To forgetting how badly last season sucked ass,” he says.

Connor clinks his empty bottle against Dylan’s and stands up to get more from the fridge.

When he turns back around, there’s a faint trace of fairy dust trailing through the kitchen. After a few seconds of stunned paralysis, Connor sighs and kicks at it to scatter the evidence.

*

Dylan stays two nights, and then decides that he’s got to go home and change into new clothes and see his brothers or something equally lame, which leaves Connor on his own with nothing but his thoughts.

He manages two hours after Dylan leaves before he calls Cam to beg him to come over. He can’t, because unlike Connor he’s not a hockey player at the start of a long, long off-season, but they make plans to catch up after Worlds so Connor supposes that has to be enough for now, even if it doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough time.

*

The best part of Worlds is playing with Nuge and a few of the other guys whose teams sucked as bad, if not worse, than the Oilers, and their game against Germany. It always feels wrong to be playing against a teammate, and it feels worse than usual when it’s Leon.

He says as much when they’re asked to take a pre-game photograph. Connor leans into Leon’s side a bit more than he probably should, but it’s habit at this point and Connor isn’t interested in breaking it when he’s got only a few short months left.

“No shit,” Leon says in response, breaking into a wry grin. Considering his usual stoic attitude before games, Connor relaxes against him, pleased. “I’m the one who has to play against you.”

Connor huffs out a laugh. “I think you can take me,” he says, meaning it. “You’ve got my number.”

“I’ll take all the advantages I can get,” Leon murmurs. He’s standing to Connor’s left as they pose, and Connor can just about see Leon looking his way. He turns so he can see him properly, except that was a huge mistake because Leon looks really, really good in his German colors.

Connor hates it.

They beat Germany 3-0, and Connor seeks Leon out afterwards.

“Sorry about that second goal,” he says sheepishly.

Leon laughs, his hand reaching for Connor’s shoulder before it creeps around the back of his neck for a gentle squeeze. “You think I don’t know that you can skate circles around me and everyone else out there on the ice?” he asks, amused.

“Not you,” Connor insists. He might be faster on the ice but Leon can keep up with him better than most.

Leon doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t drop his hand either, like he’s unwilling to break contact and walk away. There’s a long summer ahead of the both of them, and Connor’s not going to see him for over three months. He doesn’t begrudge Leon going home and seeing his family and his friends, obviously and yet part of him wants to beg Leon to stay in Canada, to spend Connor’s last months with him.

He wants to be selfish.

“Hey, I could come visit,” he blurts out, without really thinking about what he’s saying. When Leon freezes, his fingers digging hard into Connor’s skin, Connor’s breathing turns a little harsher. “Over the summer. I could come to Germany or wherever you are. For a week or so.”

Leon still isn’t saying anything and Connor is starting to feel warm all over, the heat of his embarrassment stealing over his body. There’s a little fairy dust on the tips of his fingers so he shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs.

“Okay,” Leon says eventually. Connor can’t figure out from his tone whether he’s excited or merely placating Connor, but he kind of doesn’t care either way. He just wants to see Leon. “Let me know when you’re free and we’ll work something out.”

“Yeah.” Connor breathes a little easier, goes a little pliant in Leon’s grasp. “Definitely.”

“Connor,” Leon says, then he pauses, like he’s not sure what he wants to say. Connor stays perfectly still, waiting. Then Leon shakes his head. “Just, have a good summer, okay? I’ll miss you.”

Connor laughs awkwardly. “Yeah. Me, uh, me too.”

Leon rolls his eyes and tugs him in for a quick hug. “Let me know when you can come over, okay? My dad’s gonna be so excited.”

“Well, that’s good because he’s the one I’m coming to see,” Connor says dryly.

Leon gives him a little shove. Then they’re saying goodbye for real, and Connor has to make himself leave, his feet feeling as heavy as bricks with each step he takes.

*

Cam rings his doorbell two weeks later. Connor answers the door, takes one look at Cam’s face and he feels like all his carefully constructed defenses come crumbling down at once.

“Shit,” Cam says with feeling, and then he’s shoving his way inside and pulling Connor into a hug. For all the muscle he’s put on since turning pro, Cam’s still bigger than him and Connor lets himself fold into his big brother, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he can.

“Mom told me,” Cam tells him eventually, when they’re sitting in his kitchen, eating takeout. “I mean, it was hard to understand what she was saying, she was crying so hard, and dad refused to say anything.”

“Yeah,” Connor says with feeling, and they share a little smile. “So like, this totally sucks.”

Cam nods, and stares at the floor for a few minutes. When he looks up, his eyes are a little red-rimmed and it’s Connor’s turn to look away. “So that’s it then? You’re just leaving in October?”

“Not out of choice.” Connor’s voice trembles a little but Cam doesn’t mention it. “A fairy, Cam. A fucking fairy.”

Cam kicks him under the table. “I always knew there was something weird about you,” he says weakly.

“Fuck you,” Connor says and kicks him back. “How the fuck did mom and dad keep that secret?”

“I don’t know,” Cam says, and for the first time, he sounds pretty pissed off about the whole thing. Connor can’t even remember the last time his big brother lost his temper, he’s by far the most chilled member of their family.

“Did they tell you about the memory fade?” Connor asks. When Cam stares at him, he takes it as a no. “Once I’ve gone,” he pauses to swallow around the lump in his throat, “you’ll all start to forget about me until it was like I was never here.”

Cam’s expression barely changes, save for a tightening of his jaw. “Connor, you’re the best hockey player in the world. You're not just a nobody. How the fuck do you just disappear?”

“I don’t know,” Connor says and drops his head into his hands. “Fuck, Cam. I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you and mom and dad. I want to play hockey. I want to like, grow old and meet someone and have kids or whatever. You know? I don’t want to be fae. Did they tell you why they kicked me out as a baby?”

Cam reaches over to grab his hand and he holds on so tightly that their skin turns white, but neither of them let go. “No.”

“Because I was a bad fucking fairy,” Connor says with a straight face and then he starts to giggle because it’s so ridiculous. “A bad fairy, Cam. They kicked me out of fairy land or whatever it’s called because I was so fucking bad at it. Like, what the hell am I going to do when I have to go back? If I was so bad at it, why would I be any better now?”

“Con,” Cam says, and it sounds like his heart is breaking for Connor and he so can’t deal with that now so he stands up, lets Cam’s hand fall back towards the table and starts pacing.

“I need you to like, hold it together for me,” Connor says. He can’t look at his brother right now, he feels like he’s being held together by stick tape and one more check into the boards is going to make him fly apart in a million different directions. “I really don’t want to fucking leave.”

“Okay,” Cam says, his voice instantly soothing. Connor drags in a ragged breath, and then another. “You wanna go watch Finding Nemo and eat so many jujubes that you vom?”

Connor closes his eyes and smiles. A real smile for the first time in forever. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “That sounds good.”

*

“So like, can you do cool fairy stuff?” Cam asks, halfway through the movie.

Connor throws a jujube at him and it lands right on his nose. Connor laughs as Cam jolts upright and bats it away. “Like what? What do fairies do?”

“Dunno,” Cam says thoughtfully. “Maybe we should get you a wand.”

“Asshole,” Connor says without heat.

Cam pulls out his phone and types in a few words. He starts to frown and then he laughs. “Uh, do you have a theft problem that I should know about?”

“No,” Connor says, confused.

“Do you lead travellers astray?”

“What? Is that what fairies do?” Connor grabs at Cam’s phone but he holds it out of reach.

“Turns out fairies are pretty terrible,” Cam says, tilting his head and giving Connor a considering look. “They’re like, malicious or whatever. No wonder you were considered a bad one, Con.”

Connor thinks about that for a moment. “Oh,” he says, vaguely pleased. “Well. Cool.”

Cam groans and throws a cushion at him, rubbing it over his face for good measure until Connor wrestles free, his hair messed up and a little weight lifted from his shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says when they’re finally watching the movie again. Fairy dust is pooling at his feet, purple and glittery and impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t look at Cam, but he can feel his brothers eyes on him. “Me too,” he says, and kicks idly at the fairy dust.

Connor settles back against the sofa just as the first seagull appears on screen. “Mine,” he croaks, giggling when Cam joins in.

*

Connor means to go to Europe and hang out with Leon, but before he knows it, it’s mid-August and he’s still in Toronto, hanging out with Dylan and Brinksy, sometimes Nursey. Marns drops by for a visit which turns into a week-long stay, even though he lives less than half an hour away. Connor doesn’t want him to leave, Dylan is camped out in his guest room and he doesn’t ask where Marns stays. He doesn’t need to know. But his home is constantly filled with friends and family and Connor can’t bring himself to tell them to go so he can disappear to Europe for a week.

He calls Leon on a Wednesday.

“Hey,” Connor says, picking nervously at a loose thread on his jeans. Fairy dust is raining down around him, like it’s falling from an invisible raincloud. “So I won’t be able to make it to Germany this summer.”

There’s nothing from Leon’s end for a long, long moment. “Connor, it’s 1am here,” he says wearily. “Time zones are optional.”

“Oh,” Connor says with a wince. “Sorry. I just, uh, thought I should let you know. I mean, I really want to come, but I just don’t think I can.”

“It’s not a problem,” Leon tells him, sounding bemused. “Maybe next summer?”

“Yeah,” Connor says miserably. “Maybe next summer.”

Leon goes silent again and Connor exhales slowly.

“Sorry for calling so late,” he says, and he doesn’t even know whether he means the time or the date.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leon says, softer now. “I’ll be there in a few weeks, yeah? We’ll catch up on each other’s summers.”

“Sounds good,” Connor murmurs. He picks up a handful of dust and runs it through his fingers. “I’ll let you sleep then. Goodnight, Leon.”

“Night, Connor.”

*

Training camp starts way too soon and Connor’s not ready. Physically he’s in great shape and even mentally, he’s ready as soon as his blades hit the ice. He’s a fucking basketcase emotionally though. He’s got six weeks left. Just six weeks.

It’s not enough time.

“Ready to get started?” Nuge asks him when they’re dressed and heading for the rink.

Connor shoots him a tight smile and then they hit the ice together. He skates clockwise and lets his feet get used to the fresh ice, cutting through the surface like magic.

He wonders what the ice will be like on the other side, what it will feel like to skate when there’s no goal to achieve. It won’t matter if he’s the fastest over there; all the skill he’s acquired won’t mean anything. There’s no Stanley Cup once he crosses over. No loved ones to share anything with.

“Feels good to be back, eh?” Kass says as Connor passes him on the outside.

“Keep your feet moving,” Connor calls back without thinking.

“Can’t all be as fast as you, Captain,” Kass calls, because Connor’s already a few strides ahead.

He’s got six weeks. It’s not enough time, but fuck the fae. He’s not going to let them steal anything more from him. He’s got six weeks and he’s going to make it count.

*

Connor stalks into the showers and stands under the hot spray, eyes closed and his head resting on his arm, pressed against the cool, slick tiles. They’ve played two games and it feels like last year all over again. Passes aren’t connecting, the defense is shaky and playing with zero confidence and it doesn’t matter how many goals or assists Connor puts up, the rest of the team feels like they’re ten paces behind him.

What the hell are they going to do when Connor has to leave?

Fuck the fae. Why couldn’t he have been a secret wizard or something else cool? Something that could wave a wand and fix whatever’s wrong with the team. Or a genie who could grant wishes. Anything but a fucking fairy, which as far as Connor can figure based on extensive wikipedia research and a few Google hits, are fucking useless at magic.

All he can do is keep trying, and hope that the team starts to click and produce without him. Really, really soon.

*

Nursey and Leon drag him out after the Boston game. They’re finally back in Edmonton and more importantly, the team scored their first goal without any involvement from Connor.

“Does this mean you can chill the fuck out?” Nursey asks, his arm loose around Connor’s shoulders.

The bar they’re in is quiet but they’re getting a few looks already. He fidgets with his hat, tugging it a little lower.

“Only if you guys remember where the back of the net is without me painting you a neon sign,” Connor shoots back. It’s easier to joke about it now that he’s not responsible for 100% of every goal they’ve scored so far.

“Ouch,” Leon says, putting his hand over his heart and wincing.

Connor grins at him and takes a sip of his beer.

“So like, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Nursey begins. He’s looking over at Leon and when Connor looks between the two of them, he realizes this is an ambush. Groaning, he rolls his eyes upwards.

“And we know you probably don’t want to talk, but we wanted to offer anyway,” Leon adds.

“But there’s totally something going on with you,” Nursey continues.

“And it’s fine if you want to deal with it on your own,” Leon interjects, frowning at Darnell.

“But we’re your buddies,” Nursey says firmly, glaring back at Leon.

“And as your friends, we will give you space if you want it,” Leon says, and there’s definitely some kind of kicking action going on beneath the table. “But we’re here if you need us.”

“We’re team,” Nursey says and lifts his fist for Connor to bump.

“Well, thanks, I guess?” Connor stretches out his legs and lifts his eyebrows when he feels Leon’s foot connect with his ankle.

“Uh,” Leon lifts his hand to cover his mouth, because he’s definitely smirking. “Sorry Connor.”

“Anyway,” Connor says. “There’s nothing wrong, so let's just celebrate the win, eh?”

“Go team,” Leon says brightly and lifts his bottle in a toast.

“The team sucks,” Nursey says cheerfully. “But at least we’ve got Connor to save us.”

“Fuck you.” Connor shakes his head. “You’re welcome to join me on the points leaderboard you know. Whenever you’re ready. Take your time, guys. There’s no rush or anything.”

This time when Leon kicks him, it’s totally on purpose.

*

For the past few weeks, Connor’s had a sick, churning feeling in his tummy that only got worse as All Hallows Eve approached. Now it’s the night before Halloween and he’s in the locker room for the last time ever, his final practice over and done with, and nothing but a slow, ticking countdown ahead of him before tomorrow.

“Good practice, guys,” he says a little gruffly to the room.

Some of them pause what they’re doing to look over at him in mild confusion. Connor’s not normally one for locker room speeches if he can get away with it, and especially not after a practice when they don’t play a game for two days.

Connor soldiers on anyway, because this is the last time he gets to see them and he’s going to miss the hell out of them. “You’ve put in a lot of hard work,” he says before swallowing as his gaze goes around the room, touching on Klef, Looch, Kass. Nursey is staring at him with raised eyebrows and Connor moves quickly on. “You should believe in yourselves more. I think this team can be so much more than people expect, you know?”

He looks at Matty, Lars, Ryan. Nuge. “Anyway. I just wanted to uh, say good practice, I guess?” Connor huffs out a self-conscious laugh. He looks at Leon. “And you can be the best, you know?”

“We can be the best,” Nursey calls out, which raises a few laughs. “You leaving us, Davo? Got a trade in the works?”

Leon’s watching him with his usual quiet intensity. Connor finds that he can’t look away. Or maybe he doesn’t want to look away, not when this could be the last time. “Never,” Connor says thickly. God, he needs to get out of here before he does something really embarrassing like start to cry. “This is my team.”

Then he grabs his stuff and just runs. There’s stunned silence behind him and he heads for his car, keeping his head down and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

So that’s that, then. He’s said goodbye to the team, he’s said goodbye to Dylan and Marns and everyone else he cares about.

He had to convince his parents not to fly in to stay with him tonight, explaining that it would be too much for him to deal with. He said his goodbyes two weeks ago, and he’ll Skype them when he gets home for one last goodbye. Then he’ll call Cam, maybe cry a little because Cam won’t make him feel stupid or guilty for it, and then that’ll be it.

Then he’ll just wait for it all to be over, and for Connor McDavid to be wiped from everyone’s memory.

*

The trouble with time, Connor thinks, is that having it makes him think. He’s alone in his too-big house thinking about all the things he hasn’t done, and will never do. Some of them are hockey-related, obviously, but the majority of them are off-ice, to his own surprise. He’d always thought he had time to do them all later, when hockey wasn’t everything in his life, when he was older and wiser and whatever.

Connor checks his watch. He didn’t exactly set a departure time with the fae, but he’s got at least six hours left and he’s scattering fairy dust with wild abandon. Every time he moves, more seems to appear. The sight of it glistening on his hardwood floors taunts him, and the low simmer of frustration he’s been feeling for ten months now starts to boil over.

There’s something he wants, something that he might even be able to have, more than he wants maybe anything else right at this moment. He’s leaving tomorrow and there’s so much he’s leaving behind, more than he could have ever imagined, more than he wants to, but there’s one thing he might be able to have if he can just be brave enough to reach for it.

He showers, changes into his most comfortable track pants and a plain white t-shirt, throws on an oilers sweatshirt and runs a hand through his damp hair. It’s long now, brushing over the collar of his t-shirt.

He takes a deep breath, grabs his keys, and heads for his car.

The short trip is long enough for Connor to second guess himself, but then he’s at Leon’s door and pressing the doorbell because the last ten months have felt like one long, painful, never-ending goodbye and tonight, he doesn’t want to think about tomorrow or anything past that.

And there’s a faint sense of bravado that comes with not having to deal with any consequences. Connor rocks up and down on his feet, his hands tapping a fast beat against his thighs while he waits for Leon to answer. What’s the worst that can happen? He’s not going to be here in 24 hours, so if Leon says no, if he laughs or gets angry, it won’t matter because Connor will be gone and Leon will already be losing memories of him.

But maybe. Maybe Leon will let him have this one thing that he wants. God, he wants it so much.

The door finally opens and Leon blinks at him in surprise. “Hey,” he says slowly. “Did we, did we have plans?”

“No,” Connor says and awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Uh, can I come in or are you busy?”

“No, come in,” Leon says, opening the door wider. He’s wearing much the same as Connor is, his hair rumpled like he’s been napping and his feet are bare.

Connor steps inside and feels a weird calm settle over him. Leon moves to close the door but Connor covers Leon’s hand with his own and just goes for it, tugging him in so he can press a soft, quick kiss against Leon’s mouth. Eyes squeezed shut because he’s too scared to look, Connor kisses him again, a little harder this time and with his hands gripping Leon’s biceps hard enough to bruise.

“Woah,” Leon murmurs against his lips, pulling back far enough to give Connor a puzzled look. “Woah. Easy.”

Connor flushes but he stays where he is, lips parted and ready to be kissed.

“What are you doing,” Leon half-asks, his hand sliding up to cup Connor’s cheek. Connor helplessly turns into it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

“You can say no,” Connor tells him quietly. “If you want to. It’s okay.”

“Hey,” Leon nudges him until Connor opens his eyes to find Leon staring at him. “I’m - You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting this. You.”

“You can say no,” Connor says again, his voice hoarse. He wants this so, so much.

“There’s no rush,” Leon says, frowning when Connor laughs weakly at that. He’s running out of time and he wants Leon more than he wants to breathe. “I’m just. The team, you know? I don’t. I didn’t think you’d ever want this.”

“I want this,” Connor tells him desperately. “I want you so much, Leon.”

“Okay,” Leon says soothingly, his thumb rubbing gently across Connor’s cheek. “Hey. It’s okay, Connor.”

“The team won’t be a problem,” Connor says. He presses a kiss to Leon’s palm. “Please.”

Leon looks confused. Connor doesn’t blame him because Connor’s acting pretty out of character right now, so he leans in and kisses him again, taking it slow and drawing Leon into his space until Connor’s pressed up against the door, the handle digging into his hip uncomfortably, but Leon’s kissing him back so Connor’s not complaining.

He’s wanted this so much for so long.

“I thought you didn’t want this,” Leon murmurs into the curve of Connor’s jaw where he’s pressing trailing, wet kisses that will probably give him a wicked beard burn but Connor doesn’t care. His hand slides through Leon’s hair and holds him there, tilting his head so Leon can nip at the tender skin, sending shivers through Connor’s body.

“Want you so much,” Connor tells him. Leon won’t remember tomorrow, but Connor needs to tell him anyway.

“I’ve wanted you forever,” Leon says, huffing out a little self-conscious laugh that has Connor pulling him back in for another long, drugging kiss.

“You never said,” Connor says. He understands why. He knows it wouldn’t have changed anything. It’s still nice to hear though.

Leon tugs on his belt loops and they stumble through to Leon’s bedroom. It’s mostly tidy except for the covers where Leon’s thrown them back. It looks warm and inviting and Connor scrambles to get his shirt off, making approving noises when Leon starts stripping too. As soon as he’s naked, he’s tumbling down backwards onto the bed, Leon crawling over him with a wicked grin.

“Never thought I’d see you here,” Leon admits, sliding the palm of one hand over Connor’s hip and up over his torso, cupping his cheek and leaning in for another kiss. He’s pressing down against Connor’s body, their legs tangled and Connor groans, rolling his hips up helplessly, grinding against Leon where he’s hard and leaking. “Feels like a dream.”

“I’m the one dreaming,” Connor tells him. He can’t stop touching Leon. His hands are everywhere and it’s not enough. One night isn’t enough but it’s all he has. He wants to make it count but he’s desperate, too close to the edge already and his emotions are all over the place. “Fuck, Leon. Keep touching me.”

“Shh, I am,” Leon murmurs, one hand on the mattress to hold himself up, the other wrapping around Connor’s dick and giving him a few hard, short strokes. “I’ve got you. I’ve wanted you in my bed for so long, I can’t believe you’re here.”

Connor buries his head into Leon’s shoulder, his eyes stinging with hot, stupid tears that he refuses to let fall. None of this is enough. It’s not enough to keep him here, it’s not enough to have this again. He drags in ragged breaths and holds onto Leon too tightly. He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to go.

“It’s okay,” Leon tells him. “We’re here now.”

Connor turns his face enough to press a hot kiss to Leon’s neck. Then another one, and another until he’s blindly found Leon’s mouth and he kisses him with all the desperation he feels. Leon won’t remember this, but Connor will. And when he looks back, he doesn’t want to remember it like this.

He gets to have tonight, which is more than he ever thought he could have, and that’s okay. He’ll make sure it’s enough.

“Want you to fuck me,” Connor says between kisses. He’s breathing hard, they both are, but he’s determined. He wants this so, so much.

“Connor,” Leon says, sounding like he’s going to protest but Connor doesn’t want to hear it. He’s being selfish for one night and he wants Leon to fuck him. He wants to know what it feels like to have Leon inside of him.

“Please,” Connor says, and he bends his knees, bringing them up towards his chest.

He can hear Leon’s breath hitch, then he’s scrambling for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle and flicking the lid open.

“Are you sure?” Leon asks carefully.

“Yes,” Connor says, drawing it out into a moan when Leon slides a finger inside of him. “Fuck.”

Leon decides that he’s going to kiss Connor through this part, and Connor doesn’t complain. Leon’s good at this, Connor realizes when he’s got three fingers sliding inside Connor and he feels that desperate edge of an orgasm, threatening to spill over.

“Inside me,” Connor begs, writhing underneath him. “Please. Fuck.”

Leon soothes him with a steadying hand on his chest, pushing down hard enough that Connor has to drag in his next breath. And the next one. It makes him feel dizzy but in the best kind of way, and he closes his hand over Leon’s until Leon shifts to roll a condom on. Then he’s back, covering Connor with his weight and slowly, slowly pushing into him.

“God,” Connor cries out, reaching up to wrap his hand around the back of Leon’s neck. They’re face to face, breathing against each other and Connor doesn’t look away as Leon eases into him. “Fuck,” he breathes and lifts his head to kiss Leon hard as he bottoms out.

“Okay?” Leon asks, the strain evident in his voice. “God, Connor. You’re so tight. You feel so. God, you feel so good.”

“Yeah,” Connor murmurs and rolls his hips slowly up, watching as Leon’s face goes slack. “I want you so much.”

“You’ve got me,” Leon says and Connor has to squeeze his eyes shut, block out everything except the sensations Leon’s drawing out of him. When he starts to move slowly, Connor lets out a little sob. Leon’s mouth finds his, kissing him through it as they rock together, settling into a rhythm that works. Their bodies are slick with sweat and Leon tries to keep the pace slow but Connor urges him on, reaches down to jerk himself off as Leon fucks into him.

“Fuck,” Leon says breathlessly, his gaze locked on Connor’s leaking dick. “You gonna come for me?”

“Yeah,” Connor tells him hoarsely. He tilts his head back a little, arching his hips up into Leon and speeding up his movements.

“Tell me,” Leon says, sliding a hand under Connor’s ass and lifting him up just a little, nailing the angle so perfectly that Connor cries out. “Tell me when you’re gonna come.” 

Then the only sounds are those of their bodies coming together, the slick, desperate slide of Connor’s hand, the sound Leon’s dick pulsing in and out of Connor.

“Now,” Connor gasps and Leon groans, sliding into Connor and holding himself there, leaning down to capture Connor’s mouth. Connor’s too far gone to kiss him back, but he trembles against Leon as he comes over his own belly, Leon’s dick stretching him so good that he thinks he might pass out.

“Fuck,” Leon mumbles against his lips and his hips start to jerk, like he can’t stop himself from moving.

“Yeah,” Connor murmurs. He wraps his arms around Leon’s neck and holds on as Leon fucks into him again and again. He’s sensitive but he wants this so much.

Leon makes a broken noise and pauses again, his dick pulsating inside Connor as he comes.

Connor kisses his cheek, his jaw, his throat as he tries to find bare skin while Leon slumps against him.

“Fuck,” Leon says shakily when he finally lifts his head.

Connor lets himself smile up at him, his fingers trailing up and down Leon’s back soothingly. “Good?”

Leon laughs into Connor’s shoulder. “Yeah. It was okay.”

Connor feels pretty fucking good right now, all warm and sleepy. He barely protests when Leon pulls out of him and disappears into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he comes back, he’s got a cloth for Connor. He’s half asleep as Leon cleans him up, and then he tugs Leon down for a cuddle before he drifts off, Leon curled around him, their fingers tangled together.

*

Connor wakes up a few hours later and checks the time. It’s well past midnight and he’s still here, so he rolls over and kisses Leon awake, reaching for the lube to open himself up again. It’s easier the second time and Leon fully wakes up when Connor’s hand closes around his dick.

“We shouldn’t,” Leon says, his hands settling on Connor’s hips where he’s straddling Leon’s thighs. “We’ve got practice in a few hours.”

“Okay,” Connor says, reaching for another condom wrapper and ripping it open. Leon doesn’t stop him when he rolls it onto Leon’s dick, and he helps Connor settle himself before he sinks down with a low groan. “God I want this all the time,” he says helplessly. He’s so full and Leon’s looking at him with dark eyes.

Then Leon pushes his hips upwards and Connor pushes down and he almost passes out with how good it feels.

“We should be careful,” Leon groans, his hands tightening on Connor’s hips.

“Okay,” Connor says again and starts fucking himself on Leon’s dick. He doesn’t want to be careful and he doesn’t care about tomorrow, because tomorrow doesn’t exist for him. Leon’s going to forget all about him but Connor’s going to do his best to make him remember for as long as he can. “Your dick is so fucking good.”

Leon groans again and reaches up to pull him into a kiss. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

“Please,” Connor begs.

Leon keeps his word, fucking Connor until he comes untouched over Leon. Then he rolls them over and takes off his condom, jerking himself over Connor’s chest until he’s spent. This time, he drags Connor into the shower on unsteady legs, washing them both clean and then tucking Connor back into bed, sliding in behind him.

*

Connor wakes up feeling sore but so, so good that he can’t complain. The bed is warm next to him but Leon’s not there so Connor gets a moment to himself to relive the last few hours and pinch himself to make sure he hadn’t dream it.

“Hey,” Leon murmurs from the door where he’s leaning against it, two cups in his hand. “Morning. How’re you feeling?”

“Hi,” Connor says sheepishly. Leon’s got quite a few red marks all over his chest and throat, courtesy of Connor. Leon hands him a mug and grins, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness. “I uh, I’m good. You’re up early.”

“We’ve got practice in an hour,” Leon says, amused.

“Right,” Connor says. Leon’s probably expecting him to get up and leave, but Connor doesn’t want to. He wants to stay in Leon’s bed and maybe tempt him back in too. Maybe kiss him until they’re running late. He wants to come back here after a hard practice and share more showers.

But that’s not what Connor gets. Instead, he gets to go home and say goodbye to his life. He gets to remember everything while everyone else forgets he ever existed. Leon will move on without even knowing what he’s moving on from.

“I should go,” Connor says eventually, when his mug is empty and Leon’s moving around the bedroom, getting his stuff ready. “I uh. Thanks. For last night.”

Leon moves towards him and kisses him easily until they’re both breathing a little harder. “You should come over again tonight,” Leon tells him. “Or I could come to yours.”

“Okay,” Connor says. Leon won’t even remember the invitation.

“I’m going to jump in the shower, okay?” Leon kisses him again, a brief touch of lips like they’ve woken up together a million times before. “I’ll see you at the rink.”

Connor manages a smile and watches Leon disappear through the door, closing it behind him.

He climbs out of bed and gets dressed quickly. “Bye Leon,” he murmurs with one last look over his shoulder, and then he heads home, his heart beating faster as he nears home.

Connor unlocks his door and finds fairy dust everywhere. She’s sitting on his sofa, the same fairy from before, and she seems so much bigger than he remembers.

“Are you ready, Connor McDavid?”

“No,” he answers honestly and thinks about Leon kissing him goodbye this morning.

“Does anyone wish to claim you?” she asks, grinning wide with her shark teeth like she already knows the answer.

Connor tilts his chin up and looks her in the eye. “No.”

“Then it is time,” she says simply and throws a blast of glittery dust at him. He closes his eyes instinctively and feels a sharp pull in his belly. His body feels like it’s being stretched in a million different directions and he cries out, then there’s a sharp thump and then, nothing.

“You are home, Connor McDavid.”

Connor coughs and opens his eyes. He’s sitting in a field of grass and there’s a hundred pairs of eyes staring at him, sharp teeth on display everywhere he looks. Connor shudders and tries to stand up, but his legs feel weird so he slumps back down.

“Your body is adjusting,” the fae tells him. “It will pass soon.”

Connor stares at her because she’s the only familiarity he can find right now. “Great,” he says dryly. “I’ll just sit here until it passes then.”

“Yes,” she says simply. Then she just disappears, leaving Connor blinking at the space she used to occupy.

“Uh,” he says. He forces himself to look around, trying his best to ignore the curious faces watching him. The grass is green and the sky is blue, he notes faintly. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it looks a lot like home does. There’s trees and flowers, and it takes him a few minutes to realize what he’s looking for.

There’s no buildings. No structures of any kind. Just lots and lots and wow, okay, lots of nature.

Eventually, the fae start disappearing, until Connor’s left alone, wondering what the fuck he’s meant to do.

He decides to lay down.

Downtime is rare once the season starts, so Connor’s pretty good at taking advantage, but this isn’t a break in a hectic schedule. This is what he’s going to be doing from now on, unless someone directs him to something more constructive. The moment stretches out before him indefinitely.

It’s a weird feeling to just lay down in a field and do absolutely nothing, so after a while, Connor sits up and tries to stand again. This time he manages to get to his feet, but he has no idea where to go or what to do. He can’t see any fae, and there’s nothing to head towards. There’s no paths. No houses. Everything here looks familiar, like he could be in any field, anywhere in the world. But it’s not home, and he’s unsettled by the thought.

“Hello?” he tries.

The original fairy appears, cocking her head like she’s curious. “Yes?”

“Um, I uh, don’t know what I’m meant to do,” he says slowly. “Am I meant to go somewhere?”

The fairy looks confused. “You can go wherever you please,” she says. “You can do whatever you want to do.”

“Well, what I want to do is go home and play hockey,” he says flatly. “But since I can’t do that, what else is there?”

“Changelings are so strange,” she sighs, like it’s Connor’s fault that he sucks at being a fairy. “You are fae. Close your eyes and do what comes naturally.”

Connor narrows his gaze at her but she simply stares back at him. “Okay,” he says finally and closes his eyes. He tries to think about what he should do as a fairy, but all he wants is to feel ice beneath his feet, a stick in his hands and a puck in front of him. He wants someone to play with, someone who can keep up with him, who can bury the puck in the net, their arms raised in celebration before they crash into one another.

“No, no, no,” the fae chides him. Connor opens his eyes and she’s glaring at him now, which he thinks is a little unfair. He’s only been a fairy for five minutes, he’s been a hockey player all his life. He’s trying his best, here. “You need to open your eyes.”

“Uh,” Connor says, looking around. “They are open?”

“Not fully,” she tells him, so he tries widening them, but that just seems to make her angry. “No, look with your fairy eyes!”

Connor throws his arms up, frustrated. “What the hell are my fairy eyes? Are they different to my actual eyes or what?”

The fairy mutters something to herself and then he’s got another faceful of fairy dust.

“What the hell?” he asks angrily, scrubbing at his eyes. When he opens them this time though, there’s a whole bustling street around him. Fairies are walking around him, giving him a wide berth. Buildings line the street, brightly coloured sweet-looking cottages and funny crooked-shaped buildings full of wares. Children flit across the street, laughing and pulling at each other’s wings and Connor’s eyes widen. He quickly checks his back, but he’s thankfully wingless.

“Changelings have to earn their wings,” she says. “You might take longer than most.”

“So what am I meant to do now?” Connor asks again.

“Be patient,” she tells him. “What you are meant to do will be revealed to you in time.”

Connor stares at her. “Right,” he says.

She leads him to a bright blue house and tells him that it’s his. Connor steps inside warily but he finds it’s stocked with all his favorite foods, clothes that look like they’ve been ripped from his closet, even a bed that looks identical to his own back in Edmonton.

He turns around to thank the fairy but she’s gone, leaving him alone in his home that isn’t home at all.

*

Connor tries to fit in, he really does. He leaves his house and walks around, but being here surrounded by fae who all look terrifying and too sharp makes him feel anxious and out of place. And when he tries to interact with any of them, he quickly realizes that he’s too human, too rough, too lacking in grace to fit in. He doesn’t look like them, thank god he’s kept his own human teeth so far and although he checks every morning, no wings have sprouted suddenly on his back.

He keeps trying though, because being stuck in his house alone is suffocating. He’s surrounded by memories of everything he can’t have, left behind in Edmonton and Toronto. So he goes out and walks around, day after day, wondering what the fuck he’s meant to do here.

The weeks pass slowly. Connor fills his days with endless walks and he trains as best he can, because the habits of a lifetime are hard to break. He tries his hand at cooking, baking, sewing, he even tries to grow stuff in the little yard attached to the back of his house but he’s pretty useless at everything.

He’s only ever been good at one thing his entire life and apparently he’s doomed to continue that into fairydom.

The nights are the worst by far. When the sun goes down and the town grows quiet, he’s left with nothing but his thoughts and they always circle around the same memories. They’re painful and vivid and no matter what he tries - yoga, meditation, exhausting himself to the point of almost passing out - he cannot shake them. He suspects he’s doomed to spend forever wishing to go home, missing hockey and his parents and Cam, missing his friends and his team and Leon.

He’d thought that having the memory of one night with Leon would be enough, but he’d been wrong. He’d been so, so wrong. He wakes up in the night, reaching for someone who isn’t there. He dreams of Leon’s hands on him. When he lets loneliness engulf him, he feels the phantom brush of Leon’s lips on his.

Spring turns to summer and Connor finds an axe in his backyard that definitely hadn’t been there before. He tries his hand at chopping wood and finds himself inexplicably good at it. The swing of the axe and the satisfying sound of metal against wood relaxes him. He chops enough wood for his log burner to last him through the winter and then he chops enough for his neighbors, who still regard him warily but they accept it anyway, and he finds an apple pie on his doorstep every Sunday without fail. He keeps going and soon the town start coming to him. He branches out into a little carpentry, working with a knife and sharp blade that appear where his axe had. Summer moves into Fall and then Winter. Connor’s skills have expanded to the point that he tries to fashion a stick. His first few attempts are terrible, but by the sixth try, he can actually stickhandle a ball of wool across his wooden floors.

He shoots the ball into an overturned glass on his kitchen table and laughs as it hits the target on his first try.

The sound of his own laugh startles him, for he hasn’t heard it in months.

The year passes and Connor starts to prepare his backyard for Winter. The ice rink forms slowly but it’s solid enough for him to step onto. He hasn’t managed ice skates or a puck yet, but the feel of ice under his boots is almost enough. If he’s not walking on the rink, he’s standing in his kitchen window, gazing out at it with a small smile. He can’t have his home back, and he can’t have hockey, but he can have this.

It’s almost enough.

Every year he recreates the rink. He waits all through the seasons, chopping endless logs until Winter returns and Connor’s there, preparing his little rink. Home feels a little closer when Winter comes.

*

It’s midsummer when there’s an odd commotion coming from outside. Connor paysno attention to the town anymore. It exists almost outside of him. He’s too busy being sad in his little home, wondering why he’d been given hockey only to have it taken away.

“Connor!”

He sighs, because apparently he’s progressed to hearing voices in his head. He hasn’t heard Leon’s voice in years, but his imagination is doing a good job of recreating it for him.

“Connor!”

Someone’s banging on his door, which startles him into opening it. No one’s knocked on his door for months; he’s got a huge pile of logs waiting to be collected but everyone has enough already to last them through the coming Winter.

Staring back at him on the other side of the door is Leon. Connor freezes.

“Connor,” Leon breathes. “Connor.”

“I’m asleep,” Connor says stupidly. “This. I have to be asleep.”

Leon breaks into a wide smile and grabs Connor’s hand, pulling him out of the house and into his arms. “Idiot,” he says fondly into Connor’s hair. “You dreamed of me?”

“I’m dreaming of you right now,” Connor says, closing his eyes. This is the best one though. He’s dreamt of Leon a million times but this one is better than all the rest. This one feels almost real.

“I’m here, Connor,” Leon says, pulling back and slipping his hand under Connor’s shirt. Connor yelps when he feels Leon pinch his skin. “See?”

“You can’t be here,” Connor tells him. He runs his hands up Leon’s arms and over his shoulders, then back down to his hips. “Wait, you’re really here?”

“Yes I’m really here,” Leon tells him patiently and then he punches Connor in the arm.

“Ouch!” Connor pulls back, frowning as he rubs at the sore spot. “What was that for?”

Leon levels him with an unimpressed look. “Connor, you left. I went to practice and waited for you. Then when you weren’t there, the whole team panicked but no one could get hold of you. I left you in my bed and then you just fucking vanished. You think that was okay?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Connor protests. He grabs for Leon’s hand and holds on tight. “Leon, I had to leave. I wanted to stay so much but I couldn’t.”

“Right, because you’re fae and you decided that the time to make a move on me was the night before you left forever,” Leon says flatly and Connor winces.

“You were going to forget me,” Connor says weakly. “You wouldn’t remember.”

“Well, I remembered,” Leon tells him. “And I’ve been looking for you for weeks.”

“We-weeks?” Connor pulls back in surprise. “What do you mean, weeks? I’ve been here for years.”

“No, it’s been like, two weeks since Halloween,” Leon says. “Two long fucking weeks, Connor. And you need to come home because we miss you.”

Connor grips Leon’s hand harder. “I can’t,” he says desperately. “Leon, I can’t come back. I have to stay here.”

“You’re not staying,” Leon says firmly and he starts to walk, pulling Connor along with him. Everyone in town seems to be out on the streets, staring at them. Connor pays them no mind, he’s too busy staring at Leon who’s walking away from town, like he knows exactly where he’s going. They keep walking until they reach a ring of toadstools and Leon comes to a stop, Connor next to him. He hasn't been here before but even he's heard talk of the Fairy King's throne. “You’re not staying here because I’m claiming you.”

Connor sighs heavily. “Leon,” he murmurs sadly. “That’s not how it works. I don’t know why you’re here or how you got here, or how you know about claiming, but you can’t just say you claim me. It means something different here.”

Leon gives him a disbelieving look. “You’re a dumbass,” he says, shaking his head. “But I’m claiming you anyway. Come on.”

Connor must still be in shock or something because he lets Leon pull him into the toadstool ring and they face the Fairy King together, hand in hand.

Connor’s never actually met the Fairy King before. He’s stayed in town for most of his time here, only hearing rumors about the Fae Royal Family. He’s a lot younger than Connor had assumed, with dancing green eyes and a mischievous look on his face.

“Thank you for coming to claim him,” he addresses Leon with a solemn look. “He’s been moping since the moment he arrived.”

Leon aches an eyebrow at Connor, and he just shrugs, his face flaming in embarrassment.

“Truth be told, he’s a terrible fairy,” the King says in a mock whisper.

Connor scowls at the ground.

“He’s a great hockey player though,” Leon says clearly, raising his voice just a little so that it carries over to the King. “He’s the best. And he needs to come home.”

The King considers them both. “If the claim isn’t true, you cannot cross back over and you will both remain fae forever,” he says gravely.

“Wait, what?” Connor spins around to look at Leon, his heart pounding.

“I had to offer them something to come here,” Leon says, sounding unconcerned.

“You’re going to be stuck here forever,” Connor tells him in frustration. “What about your family? What were you thinking?”

“Your family misses you, Connor,” Leon says softly, lifting his hand to cup Connor’s cheek and rubbing his thumb gently against Connor’s skin. Connor closes his eyes and leans helplessly into his touch. He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel Leon’s hands on him again, but he doesn’t want it like this. “Our team misses you. And I miss you. So you better figure out how you feel about me claiming you real quick because I’m doing it. We’re going home together.”

Connor doesn’t have time to react before the King waves his wand and he gets that same stretched out feeling from before. He wakes up in his home, his real home, in Edmonton. Leon’s sprawled out next to him, looking as ill as Connor feels, but they’re home. They made it.

They made it, which means - oh. He makes a grab for Leon’s hand, the room spinning around him as he moves but he closes his fingers around Leon’s wrist and lays panting on the floor, trying to right his equilibrium. Perhaps, he thinks dizzily, he wants Leon enough to make the claim work all by himself.

“So,” Leon says, rolling with a groan onto his back. He’s looking upwards but their hands are still linked across Connor’s hardwood floor. He’s missed his damn floors. “A changeling.”

“Pretty fucking weird,” Connor agrees. He risks a glance at Leon, who’s laughing quietly.

“It explains a lot,” Leon says eventually and squeezes Connor’s hand.

Connor frowns at him. “Hey.”

“I meant your skating,” Leon says innocently. Connor’s not fooled for a second but he’s home. He’s too happy to be annoyed. “And anyway, you’re too human to be fae. They said you were a terrible fairy, right?”

“The actual worst,” Connor agrees with a slow smile that turns into a laugh. “I was so bad. I spent the whole time wishing I could come home.”

“You’re a dumbass and we’re going to talk about ways to prevent you being a dumbass again in the future,” Leon tells him as he tries to sit up. He actually manages it, which is annoying as fuck because Connor’s still stuck on the floor. “But right now I’m just relieved you’re back home and I don’t have to talk to those scary-ass fairies anymore.” He’s carefully inching closer to Connor.

“They’ll be watching us,” Connor reminds him, hefting himself up onto his elbows just as Leon reaches him. “To make sure the claim lasts. So, like, you know you’re really stuck here with me? Like, that’s what a claim is.”

“Connor,” Leon says, crawling over Connor’s body to straddle his hips. Connor can just about move his hands to Leon’s hips, and something settles inside of him. Like the feel of Leon’s weight, solid and real, is grounding him. “I want to be stuck with you. That’s why I came and got you.”

Leon’s hands are moving over his body, warming him even as they start to undress him. “I thought it was because the team missed me,” Connor murmurs. His thumb runs over Leon’s fly and the bulge underneath.

Leon groans and tugs Connor’s shirt off over his head. “They definitely missed you,” he says and leans in to brush his mouth over Connor’s. He’s got enough movement now to pull Leon back in for a proper kiss, his heart thudding loudly in his chest because he didn’t think he’d ever have this again. But Leon’s mouth is slick against his and they’re both touching each other in fast, jerky movements like they’re making sure the other one is real. “But I want you,” Leon says between kisses. His tone doesn’t change but he cups Connor’s head, tilting it so he can stare into Connor’s eyes. “I came to claim you. And I’m keeping you.”

“Okay,” Connor agrees hoarsely. He thinks he understands now what Leon’s trying to tell him. His hand sneaks up to press against Leon’s chest, where he can feel Leon’s heart pounding underneath his flat palm.

“Yeah,” Leon exhales slowly, all traces of humor gone from his face while he watches Connor figure it out. “Dumbass.”

When fairy dust starts to rain down on them, gently at first and then falling heavier as they keep their eyes locked on each other, Connor does his best to ignore it.

“Uh,” Leon says, looking down and gathering the red glittery sprinkled dust into his hand before he lets it fall through his fingers. “Wow.”

“Fae,” Connor says with a shrug. “How did you even find them when I was gone? How did you know I’d been taken by fucking fairies?”

Leon kisses him, slow and soft. “I remembered you,” he says. “You said I was meant to forget, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I went crazy thinking about what could have happened to you. I mean, you wouldn’t just leave during the season, and no one knew where you could have gone. I called your parents looking for you and at first they didn’t know what I was talking about. I think they might have started to forget you, but when I kept asking, they finally told me the whole story. About the fae and you being a changeling. They told management that you’d come home on a family emergency. It was a bit hazy but I think they wanted to believe it? Like they barely remembered you anyway. I think I was meant to forget, but I kept talking about you. I wouldn’t let anyone else forget. One of them turned up at my house, looking really pissed off that I was asking questions about where you were. I made them an offer, and the next thing I knew, I was knocking on your door and there you were.”

Connor stares at him.

“What?” Leon asks, looking a little sheepish and running a hand through his hair absently.

“I know I should probably tell everyone that I’m back,” Connor says. He rolls his hips upwards, grinning when Leon makes a strangled noise of approval. “But you did just claim me. We should celebrate.”

*

Two rounds of desperate, life-affirming, claimed-for-life sex leaves them both panting, marooned on Connor’s bed which has been half-buried in a sea of rainbow glitter dust.

“Is this going to happen every time we have sex?” Leon asks curiously, running his hand through it.

Connor lifts his head from Leon’s chest and trails his hand down Leon’s side. Leon drags in a sharp breath. “I don’t know,” Connor says thoughtfully, humming in approval as Leon hooks his hand around Connor’s knee and nips at Connor’s shoulder. “But we should definitely test it out.”


End file.
